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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


kM^ 


Mallow  and  Asphodel 


Mallow  and   Asphodel 

By   R.   C.   TreveJyan 


"  N'/jTTtoi,  o()ot  Sraai  ocejj  7r\ioy  ijfuav  iravrds, 


Kantian 
MACMILLAN    AND    CO.,    Limited 

NEW    YORK   :     THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 
1898 

Ail  rights  reutved 


CONTENTS 


Epimetheus 

PAGE 
I 

Archilochus 

.             25 

Orpheus  .... 

•             32 

The  Playmates  . 

•            •            -37 

Juno's  Peacock    . 

•      39 

For  a  Fan 

•      50 

Quern  Songs 

.       52 

^  EPIMETHEUS 

I 

When  the  Titan  wars  were  over,  and  those  upstart  mutineers, 
Friended  by  Prometheus'  guile,  had  hurled  the  sky's  coeval 

peers 
Down  to  grim  Tartarean  bondage,  last  of  all  that  vanquished 

band, 
Haled  before  the  seat  of  Zeus  for  judgment,  fettered  foot  and 

hand, 
Came  the  minstrel  Epimetheus,  foolish  wizard,  after-wise. 
With  amaze  and  wonder  staring  in  his  simple  innocent  eyes. 
They  had  found  him  sitting  lonely  by  the  far  Atlantic  shore, 
Floating  songs  of  careless  rapture  o'er  the  sea's  white-spuming 

floor  ; 
There  they  found  the  silly  singer,  whither  he  had  slunk  by 

night. 
Stolen  from  the  fray — ah,  wherefore  should  the  sweet-voiced 

minstrel  fight  ? 
Thus  they  brought  him,  bound  and  wildered,  lapsing  ever 

and  anon 
Back  into  his  foolish  singing,  while  the  Thunderer's  limping 

son, 

B 


2  EPIMETHEUS 

Swart  Hephaestus,  called  a  sentence  from  the  terrible  lips  of 
Zeus  : 

"  Father,  o'er  this  shiftless  truant  let  a  doom  be  shaken  loose. 

Yet  deal  gently  with  him,  Father,  guilty  found  in  other  kind 

Than  those  lords  of  insurrection.     Nought  he  knew  what 
moved  their  mind  ; 

Scant  his  care  if  thou  or  Cronus  reigned  :  he  followed,  as 
behoved. 

Whither  his  brother  giants  bade  him,  chanting  the  sweet 
lays  they  loved. 

How  should  deep  forecasting  treason  ambush  in  those  child- 
like eyes  ? 

Of  the  future  nought  he  sees,  in  bygone  knowledge  only 
wise. 

In  the  past  his  wits  go  ever  rambling  like  a  little  child 

Hither  thither  seeking  berries  down  the  brambly  wood-ways 
wild. 

Yet  since  he  must  surely  suffer  joined  in  penance  with  his 
kin. 

Then  devise  some  milder  bondage,  portioned  to  his  venial  sin. 

Do  not  bid  us  clamp  his  body  on  some  everlasting  bed 

Hot  with  unimagined  torment,  lest,  when  thither  he  is  led. 

From  our  grasp  he  sing  our  mallets  with  entreaty  musical, 

And  our  hands  heaved  up  for  pity  let  the  links  and  fetters 
fall." 

Thus  the  kind  Hephaestus  pleaded,  while  within  the  brain 
of  Jove 

To  and  fro  the  thoughts  like  shuttles  plying  swift  a  judg- 
ment wove. 

Warp  of  wisdom,  woof  of  justice,  worthy  of  a  king  so  wise. 

But  the  giant  with  a  question  in  his  wildered  wandering  eyes 

Gazed  around,  then  rent  the  silence  with  a  loud  and  bitter  cry: 


EPIMETHEUS  3 

"Whither  have  they  fallen — my  brothers — fallen   through 

the  boundless  sky  ? 
As  I  sat  beside  the  ocean,  I  beheld  them  one  by  one 
Tumbling    through    the    purple   evening,   right   across   the 

setting  sun  : 
Far  away  they  fell  to  Westward,  and  I  knew  not  what  was 

done  ; 
But  the  sea  grew  rough  with  horror,  and   the   mountains 

quaked  with  dread, 
And    the    sky   grew    dark,   and    reboant    thunder    laboured 

overhead  ; 
And  I  hid  my  face  and  cowering  long  I  sat  in  doubt  and  fear, 
Till  these  strange  ones  came  upon  me,  bound  my  hands  and 

drew  me  here. 
But  I  seek  my  pleasant   brethren  j    where   they  sojourn   I 

would  learn. 
Have  ye  seen  this  mighty  kindred  ?     Easy  are  they  to  discern : 
Tall  and  lovely  are  their  bodies,  beautiful  their  voice  and 

strong. 
When  they  call  to  one  another,  as  the  wind-chafed  forest's 

Or  the  parle  of  lions  calling  o'er  the  hills  from  lair  to  lair. 

Tell  me,  ye  strange  mocking  faces,  have  ye  seen  them  any- 
where ?  " 

Thus  he  wailed  and  looked  around  him,  while  the  Olympian 
corridors 

Echoed  with  immortal  laughter,  as  on  sea-indented  shores 

When  with  washing  lapping  laughter  softly  laughs  a  prisoned 
wave 

To  the  answering  roof  above  it  of  some  deep-receding  cave. 

Nay,  e'en  Zeus  himself  grew  jocund,  and  his  heart  with 
mirth  was  warm  : 


4  EPIMETHEUS 

From  the  lips  that  judge  the  world  burst  laughter   like  a 

thunder-storm, 
And  the  palm  that  darts  the  lightning  smote  the  great  eternal 

thigh  ; 
With  the  shock  the  walls  rang  loudly,  and  within  where 

peacefully- 
Hidden  in  the  secret  cloisters  of  that  many-chambered  limb, 
Slept  the  infant  Dionysus,  safe  from  Hera's  wicked  whim. 
All  the  twenty  silver  nurses,  seated  on  their  golden  stools 
Round  the  babe  to  watch  and  tend  him,  fashioned  with  the 

fire-god's  tools, 
Shook  their  glittering  limbs  for  terror  when  the  long  walls 

heaved  and  quaked, 
And  the  mighty  Semelean  infant,  from  his  slumber  waked. 
Turned  about  within  his  cradle,  and  addressed  them  ques- 
tioning : 
"Wherefore  thus,  my  silver  nurses,  doth  our  house  about 

us  ring  ? 
Wherefore  rock  the  walls  and  tremble?     Doth  a  brood  of 

fancies  vain 
Like  a  shoal  of  ocean  fishes  dartle  through  my  father's  brain, 
That  he   wags   his   legs   for    pleasure  ?      Hath    his    roving 

amorous  eye 
Found  again  some  maid  of  beauty  from  its  vantage  in  the 

sky  ? 
Can  it  be  his  wits  grow  nimble  with  the  kindling  touch  of 

wine  ? 
Innocent  as  yet  and  sober  hangs  the  grape  upon  the  vine. 
Even  as  I  within  this  cradle  lying  :   but  the  day  shall  be 
When  I  must  arise  to  quicken  all  its  sleeping  potency. 
And  the  universe  shall  drink,  and  to  my  godhead  bow  the 

knee." 


EPIMETHEUS  5 

Thus  he  spake,  nor  stayed  an  answer,  but  turned  round,  and 
to  his  dreams 

Passed   once   more,  and   lapt   in   sleep   resumed   his   world- 
consoling  schemes. 

But  the  pregnant  brows  of  Zeus  grew  dark  with  magisterial 
gloom. 

And  his  lips  now  stern  and  cruel  thus  pronounced  a  righteous 
doom  : 

"  Epimetheus,  would'st   thou   question   where   thy   pleasant 
brethren  be  ? 

They  have  parted  on  a  journey — Wisdom's  face  they  fain 
would  see. 

Not  in  all  their  mighty  legions   holy  Wisdom    might    be 
found  : 

To  the  realms  of  fire  to  seek  her  they  must  travel  under- 
ground. 

I  beheld  their  fond  migration  setting  forth,  but  much  I  doubt. 

Though  they  seek  a  thousand  ages,  whether  they  will  seek 
her  out. 

In  my  tender  care  and  prudence  I  have  bound  thee  foot  and 
hand. 

Lest  fraternal  love  should  bid  thee  track  the  steps  of  that 
lost  band. 

How  should  one  of  heart  so  peaceful,  tempered  simple  as  a 
child, 

Bear  the  subterranean  horror  of  that  venture    tern  and  wild? 

Therefore  shall  Hephaestus  take  thee  deep  within  the  North- 
land vast. 

Far  beyond  its  forest  girdle,  there  to  bind  thy  body  fast 

All  along  a  craggy  mountain,  stretched  supine  as  on  a  rack  : 

Thou  and   thy  tremendous   warden,  starkly   fettered    back 
to  back. 


6  EPIMETHEUS 

Linkt  with  glacier  chains  to2;ether  for  a  season,  soon  shall 

be 
Loving  friends  and  sweet  companions  ;  nay,  so  close  your 

amity, 
That  your  beings  shall  commingle,  and  thy  bones  shall  suffer 

change. 
Mystic  mountain  transformation, gradual  petrifaction  strange: 
Into  soil  thy  flesh  shall  crumble,  on  thy  head  tall  pines  shall 

nod 
All  their  feathery  tops  together  when  they  hear  the  North- 
wind's  rod  : 
O'er  thine  eyes  shall  spring  the  oak-tree  ;  from  beneath  its 

brow  shall  steal 
Two  bright  streams  of  tears  for  token  that  thou  still  canst 

know  and  feel : 
Down  thy  cheek  the  larch  shall  muster,  round  thy  chin  the 

birch  shall  grow. 
Lifting  up  its  trembling  foliage  o'er  the  willow-wood  below. 
By  the  voice  of  cataracts  falling,  cuckoos  caUing  through 

the  air. 
And  the  feet  of  brown  bears  shambling,  reindeer  rambling 

here  and  there, 
Many  a  time  shall  pleasant  sleep  be   chased  from   off  thy 

wearied  eyes. 
As  the  slumbers  of  an  infant  teased  away  by  summer  flies. 
Yet,  for  so  would  I  chastise  thee  as  a  father  might  his  child, 
That   by  some   sweet   consolation   thy  keen  pains  may  be 

beguiled, 
I  will  bid  that  singing  Spirit  harbour  still  within  thy  breast. 
Filling  all  thy  soul  with  music,  as  a  dove  that  builds  its 

nest 
High  within  a  lofty  tower  fills  a  captive  with  delight. 


EPIMETHEUS  7 

Yea,  thou  shalt  forget  thy  pain,  the  parching  noon  and  chilly 

night. 
When  thy  songs  creep  back  to  nestle  murmuring  by  thy 

worn  heart's  side, 
And  melodiously  ascending  softly  through  thy  throat  they 

glide 
One  by  one  between  thy  lips,  as  in  succession  glide  the  bees 
Through  their  city  gates  to  morning  business  over  heather 

leas. 
And  the  wandering  winds  of  heaven  that  have  shuddered  in 

their  flight 
O'er  the  mouths  of  red  volcanoes  shooting  far  into  the  night 
Tongues    of   flame,   and    with    pollution    of   hot    hail    and 

sulphurous  breath 
Staining  all   their   liquid   air-streams,  each   pure  cloud  and 

vapour  wreath. 
When  they  pass  the  singing  mountain,  visiting  its  wondrous 

mouth. 
As  with  snowy  feet  they  hasten  on  their  journey  toward  the 

South, 
Long  shall  linger  round  to  listen,  charmed  through  all  their 

eddies  cold. 
All  their  fierce  tempestuous  whirlwinds,  loading  every  frozen 

fold 
Of  their  gusty  robes  with  music,  ere  they  go  their  boisterous 

ways 
Scattering  over  land  and  ocean  storm-blown  snatches  of  thy 

lays. 
Shackled  thus  through  countless  ages,  thou  shalt  gather  in 

by  night 
Wisdom  from  the  freezing  moonbeams  and  instruction  from 

the  Hght 


8  EPIMETHEUS 

Of  the  stars  in  silver  session  ;  and  when  dawn  with  rosy  hand 
Draws  awav  their  robes  of  darkness  from  the  wakened  sea 

and  land, 
Helios  shall  teach  thee  prudence,  into  thine  unsheltered  eyes 
Laughing  with  fierce  fiery  glances,  till  thy  withered  heart 

grow  wise, 
And  thy  kindred  be  forgotten  :   then  once  more  thy  voice 

may  fling 
Rapture   through   the   ancient   halls,   till   all  their   cloisters 

sweetly  ring, 
And  the  Olympian  peers  grow  hushed  and  stay  their  jocund 

revelling." 
Thus  the  king  dealt  forth  his  righteous  judgments  o'er  that 

innocent  head  : 
Heavy  hands  were  laid  upon  him  ;  from  that  presence  was 

he  led 
Far  away  to  watch  for  ages  fettered  on  his  icy  bed. 


II 

Apollo,  disguised  as  an  Infant,  instructs  Djedalus 
HOW  Epimetheus  may  be  found 

On  Calymne's  rocky  sea-board  Dasdalus  had  lighted  down. 
Flying  o'er  the  wrinkled  ocean  from  the  towers  of  Minos 

town. 
Weary-winged  and  sick  with  anguish  on  a  stone  he  sat  and 

wept. 
While  the  waves  with  jocund   laughter   round   about   him 

washed  and  leapt. 


EPIMETHEUS  9 

But  he  heeded  not  their  moclcino; ;  still  he  heard  that  bitter 

knell— 
"  Father,  father  !    see,   I    perish  !      Reach  thy  hand  !      Ah, 

fare  thee  well  !  " 
Saw  again  the  glittering  pinions  flutter  idle  overhead. 
Saw  the  boy's  hands  stretched  toward  him,  saw  his  face  as 

down  he  sped, 
Till  he  plunged  within  the  cloudrack  o'er  the  misty  ocean 

spread. 
When   he   raised  his  eyes,  beside  him  lo  !   a  fisher's  cabin 

stood. 
Built  of  stones  and  wattled  reeds  :    its  gaping   holes  were 

stopped  with  mud. 
At  the  door  a  crone  was  sitting,  mending  nets  upon  the  sand  ; 
On  the  floor  a   babe   was    playing,   moulding   shapes   with 

infant  hand — 
Deftly  like  a  master  workman  kneading  out  of  pliant  clay 
Mimic  forms  of  God  and  Goddess  ranged  in  reverent  array 
Round  him  in  a  circle,  mocking  those  brave  sessions  when 

the  Gods 
Parley  round  the  throne  of  Zeus  in  large  Olympian  periods. 
Then  the  hero  stepping  lightly  to  that  withered  woman's  side 
Spake  a  word  in  heavy  trouble  :    "  Ancient  mother,  worn 

and  tried 
By  the  spite  of  years  and  sorrows,  give  me  now  an  answer 

true. 
I  have  travelled  hither  winging  on  a  journey  strange  and  new 
Through    the   windy   streets   of  heaven,    fleeing   from   the 

grievous  wrath 
Of  the  cruel  tyrant  Minos  ;  not  alone  I  started  forth  : 
Close   behind   my   son  was   speeding.     As  two   ducks  rise 

through  the  air 


lo  EPIMETHEUS 

With  their  long  necks  stretching  forward  toward  another 

reedy  lair  ; 
Startled  by  a  fowler's  footsteps  from  their  pools  upon  the 

moor, 
So  we  voyaged  on  together  ;  but  alone  I  reached  the  shore. 
Down   he   dived    beneath  the  vapours  —  Icarus  !     My  son, 

my  son  ! 
Couldst   thou  not  have  heard  my  warning  ?      All  my  life 

with  thee  is  gone  : 
Thine  was  all  the  gathered  wisdom  of  my  art,  which  I  had 

thought 
Thou  shouldst  lead  to  large  perfection,  by  Apollo's  precept 

taught. 
All  my  house  with  thee  is  perished,  all  my  toils  and  hopes 

are  nought. 
Through  the  mists  I  dropped  to  seek  him,  hovered  o'er  the 

water's  face 
To    and  fro   with   vain  endeavour,  wandering  round  from 

place  to  place  ; 
Saw  no  sight  but  dolphins  gambolling,  fishes  leaping  from 

the  waves. 
Heard  no  sound  but  sea-gulls  crying,  cormorants  screeching 

from  their  caves  ; 
Sought  one  hour,  and  then  a  second  ;  could  not  find  him 

anywhere  ; 
But  the  third  I  journeyed  landward,  weeping,  laden  with 

despair. 
Mother,  say,  as  thou  wast  sitting  at  thy  task  beside  the  shore 
Hast  thou  seen  a  sudden  splendour  flashing  down  on  ocean's 

floor. 
As  the  lightning  falls  from  heaven  ?      Didst  thou  mark  a 

swimmer  bold 


EPIMETHEUS  ii 

Striving  shoreward  through  the  waves,  or  did  their  restless 

arms  enfold 
Nought  but  some  poor  lifeless  body  hither   thither   tossed 

and  rolled  ?  " 
Thus  the  ancient  dame  made  answer  :   "What  is   this  that 

thou  dost  ask  ? 
I  must  stoop  my  weary  eyes  for  ever  o'er  my  homely  task  ; 
I  have  no  time  to  send  them  wandering  on  the  waves  or 

through  the  skies  ; 
I  have  no  care  if  men  like  lightning  fall  from  heaven,  or 

heroes  rise 
From  the  waves  like  Aphrodite  :  yet  sometimes  I  see  them 

come, 
But  their  limbs  are  stifF  with  swimming,  and  their  swollen 

lips  are  dumb  : 
To  the  land  they  never  win,  but  'neath  the  breakers  find  a 

tomb. 
Stranger,   wouldst    thou    gather   counsel   from    a    wrinkled 

woman's  lips  ? 
Suffer  not  thy  hero  heart  to  scorn  the  timbered  might  of 

ships. 
Doth  adventure  bid  thee  cross  the  perilous  seas  from  shore 

to  shore, 
Tempt  not  strange  forbidden  paths,  nor  strive  against  our 

nature's  law. 
Leave  the  wet  waves  for  the  fishes,  to  the  lion  leave  his  lair, 
For  the  immortal  Gods  Olympus,  for  the  birds  the  bound- 
less air. 
Nor  shalt  thou  disdain  thy  mother  Earth,  who  gave  thee  life 

and  health  ; 
She  can   yield   thee    bread   in   plenty,   fruit   and   wine  and 

golden  wealth. 


12  EPIMETHEUS 

Women  fair  as  Aphrodite  ;  and  when  thou  weariest  of  all 

these, 
On  her  loamy  breast  thy  tired  limbs  shall  find  their  endless 

ease." 
When  the  hero  heard  this  answer,  silent  turned  he  from  the 

door. 
But  the  infant  stayed  him,  speaking  from  his  play  upon  the 

floor  : 
"  In  the  dim  Cimmerian  highlands,  where  man's  feet  may 

never  come, 
Where  the  boisterous  congregations  of  the  winds  are  never 

dumb  ; 
By  sheer  mountain  cliffs  in  frozen  isolation  girdled  round. 
Lies  the  wizard  Epimetheus  fast  in  silver  fetters  bound. 
Till   his  stubborn   heart  grow  loyal,  and    his    brethren    be 

Never  shall  they  from  his  limbs  unwind  their  crawling  icy 

knot. 
On  his  ancient  head  is  springing  many  a  tall  snow-loaded 

pine, 
Nodding  all  their  tops  together  when  they  hear  the  tempest 

whine  ; 
O'er   his   eyes  the  oak-trees  darken,  down    his   cheek    the 

larches  grow  ; 
Round   his  chin   the   birches   quiver   o'er   the  willow-wood 

below. 
O'er  his  face  great  bears  go  ambhng,  deer  go  rambling  here 

and  there, 
All  around  are  cuckoos  calling,  cataracts  brawling  through 

the  air. 
Wouldst  thou  know  the  doubtful  sequel  of  thy  son's  aerial 

wrack  ? 


EPIMETHEUS  13 

Spread  thy  wings  upon  the  South-wind,  leap  upon  its  gusty 

back, 
Ride  across  the  broad  i^gean,  by  that  easy  pilot  led. 
Leave    behind    the    racing    billows   gambolling   over    Helle 

dead, 
Travel  o'er   the  cruel    Euxine,  on  thy  left  hand   skirt  its 

shore. 
Till  thou  see  a  mighty  river  spreading  out  a  golden  floor 
Far  inland  towards  the  sunset.      Here  thy  wings  shall  change 

their  flight  ; 
They   must   strain   and    labour   onward    to    the   West,   till 

welcome  night 
Bids  them  sink  to  earth  for  shelter  in  some  warm  thick- 

foliaged  nest. 
As  the  tired  dove  at  evening  seeks  her  lofty  wind-rocked 

rest. 
Three  slow  days  the  gliding  highway  of  the  stream  shall  be 

thy  guide  ; 
But  the  fourth  noon,  looking  downward,  wandering  on  the 

riverside 
Thou  shalt  see  a  giant  elk,  and  antlered  lord  of  many  leas 
Straying  on  in  quiet  pasture  of  the  grass  beneath  the  trees. 
Stoop  from   heaven   like  an  eagle  ;   alight  astride  upon  his 

back. 
Quickly  draw  thy  sword  and  thrust  it  through  his  velvet- 
coated  neck  ; 
On  the  green  grass  spill  his  life,  then  build  of  stones  an 

altar  there  ; 
Lay  upon  the  wood  thy  victim  ;   to  the  Delian  breathe  a 

prayer 
That   his   gracious   pov/er   may  lead   thee   to   the   wizard's 

mountain  lair. 


14  EPIMETHEUS 

From  the  flame  shall  rise  a  murmur,  from  the  altar  leap  a 

song, 
With  the  smoke  and  sparks  above  thee  tiny  wings  shall  flash 

and  throng. 
Mounting  fast  in  countless  hundreds,  swarming  up  between 

the  trees. 
And  those  leafy  vaults  shall  echo  with  the  floating  hum  of 

bees. 
Do  not  stand  in  foolish  wonder  gaping  ;  lift  thy  wings  in 

flight ; 
Thou  must  follow  where   they  lead  thee  :   never  let  them 

from  thy  sight. 
All  day  long  with  steady  pinions  press  behind  their  humming 

host. 
Nor  when  Night  shall  dusk  the  paths  of  heaven  shall  their 

track  be  lost  ; 
But  their  wings'  melodious  rumour  sweetly  shall   instruct 

thine  ear, 
Lapsing  on  with  myriad  silver  glances  through  the  moon- 
light clear. 
On  a  sudden  notes  of  distant  music  from  a  mouth  unseen 
Shall   come  fainting   down   the   valleys,  o'er   the   mountain 

pastures  green. 
Like  the  sound  of  lowing  cattle  borne  from  land  upon  the 

breeze 
To  poor  sailors  drifting  lost  and  wildered  over  misty  seas. 
Thou  shalt  know  the  wizard's  singing,  thou  shalt  thrill  to 

hear  the  voice 
That  has  soothed  the  Titans'  fury  and   made  their  lordly 

hearts  rejoice. 
Stir  thy  lagging  wings,  leap  forward  for  thy  fallen  son's  dear 

sake  ; 


EPIMETHEUS  15 

Leave  behind  the  patient  bees  to  labour  onward  in  thy  wake. 

Tall  and  taller  rise  the  mountains,  loud  and  louder  swells 
the  song, 

Till  beneath  thee  lo  !   the  giant,  paying  for  an  ancient  wrong 

Grievous  penance,  on  a  ridge  of  craggy  rocks  stretched  out 
along. 

Lighting  on  his  wrinkled  visage,  fold  thy  tired  wings  to  rest. 

That  with  faithful  flight  have  borne  thee  to  the  haven  of 
thy  quest. 

In  his  mind's  memorial  chambers  all  the  secret  past  lies 
stored  ; 

Yet  his  jealous  sullen  humour  loves  not  to  lay  bare  his  hoard. 

Therefore,  wouldst  thou  win  thine  answer,  weave  thy  words 
with  threads  of  guile  ; 

Wise  and  crafty  be  thy  dealings  ;  baffle  wile  with  subtler 
wile  : 

For  the  myriad  years  have  taught  him  prudence  with  their 
crawling  pangs  ; 

Glaciers  have  devoured  his  simple  child-like  heart  with 
freezing  fangs  ; 

Thirsty  Helios  with  scorching  lips  has  drunk  his  innocence  ; 

And  though  still  the  singing  Spirit  sweetly  haunts  within 
his  sense, 

'Twixt  his  songs  he  mutters  curses  on  Jove's  stern  omni- 
potence. 

Thus  his  soul  has  grown  malignant,  ever  on  evil  food  it  feeds, 

Lapt  in  magic  meditation,  wicked  dreams  of  wizard  deeds." 

So  the  infant  gave  his  counsel  ;  then  to  mould  his  beau- 
teous toys 

Turned  again,  and  wreathed  in  smiles  resumed  his  inter- 
rupted joys. 

In  a  muse  the  hero  muttered,  "  How  may  holy  wisdom  thrive 


i6  EPIMETHEUS 

On  the  lips  of  new-born  infants  ?      How  can  baby  hands 

contrive 
Graceful  forms  of  God  and  Goddess,  fair  beyond  the  art  of 

man  ? 
Sure  in  the  ambush  of  those  limbs  there  lurks  some  power 

Olympian." 
When  he  raised  his  eyes  again  the  babe  had  vanished  from 

the  floor 
With  his  works,  and  thus  the  wrinkled  wife  addressed  him 

from  the  door  : 
"Wherefore  thus  with  eyes  agaze  on  empty  nothing  dost 

thou  stand  ? 
What  is  that  thy  pale  lips  mutter  ?     Wouldst  thou  count 

the  countless  sand  ? 
Would  thy  reckless  heart  discover  what  fresh  folly  may  be 

done  ? 
Pluck  the  planets  from  their  courses,  steal  his  shining  from 

the  sun. 
Through  the  chambers  of  the  heavens  on  thy  mad  wings 

float  and  run, 
To  sweep  the  bright  clouds  from  its  corners  :  easy  are  such 

light  feats  for  thee  ; 
But  thy  treasure  dropped  and  drowned  in  ocean  shalt  thou 

never  see." 
Like  the  sound  of  twittering  sparrows  died  her  words  within 

his  mind. 
Still  he  mused,  and  ever  musing,  turned  him  round,  and  on 

the  wind 
Spread  his  wings  ;  then  fast  away,  away  it  bore  his  headlong 

flight 
Northward    o'er    the    seas,   and    snatched     him    from    that 

wondering  woman's  sight. 


EPIMETHEUS  17 

III 

A  Song  of  Epimetheus 

Yet  once  more  ye  winds,  swift  wandering  shepherds  of  the 

vaporous  skies, 
Ye  bright  flocks  of  clouds,  ye  mountains  crowned  in  shining 

helms  of  ice, 
Monarchs  of  the  earth,  give  hearing,  while  again  I  lift  my 

voice. 
That  hath  oft  beguiled  and  soothed  you  with  the  enchant- 
ment of  strange  joys. 
Caught  you  by  your  misty  purple  fleeces,  stayed  your  gusty 

feet. 
Pierced  the  sunless  caves  of  granite  where  your  hot  hearts 

pant  and  beat. 
Often  have  ye  heard  me  flinging  joyance  on  the  morning  air. 
Golden  tales  of  magic  cadence  'neath  the  stars,  though  keen 

despair 
Gnawed  within  ;  but  now  no  more  thus  sweetly  may  I  find 

relief ; 
I  have  nought  to  sing  but  bitter  dirges,  wailing  winged  with 

grief; 
For  my  soul  is  sick  and  faint  as  some  great  city  by  the  seas, 
Mother  of  a  thousand  ships,  grown  rich  on  old  adulteries 
With  far  merchant  isles  and  kingdoms,  when  her  foemen 

gather  round. 
Bind  a  mole  across  her  harbours,  raise  against  her  gates  a 

mound  : 
In  her  streets  where  once  the  jovial  chapman  gossiped  in  his 

stall 

c 


1 8  EPIMETHEUS 

And  'neath  the  tread  of  merry-makers  e'en  the  stones  grew 

musical, 
Lie   the   lean   and   wasted  dead — and   who  shall  give  them 

burial  ? 
In  the  wealthy  merchant's  garden,  'twixt  the  lily  and  the 

rose, 
Down  the  paths  for  twilight  lovers  green,  secure  the  thistle 

blows  ; 
None  shall  come  to  root  it  up,  save  haply  when  the  hasty 

spade 
Breaks  the  turf,  and  ever  there  again  some  muffled  face  is 

laid.  ' 

And  her  mighty  men  in  silence  slink  like  foxes  to  the  walls. 
And  her  princes  sit  forlorn  and  tremble  in  their  feasting- 

halls. 
Thus  my   heart   is  faint  and  famished  :    hope  at  last   hath 

flown  away, 
Hope  that  ever  nestled  near  it,  murmuring  of  the  happy 

day 
When  with  glad  victorious  faces,  bright  with  battle  in  the 

skies. 
They  should  come,  my  Titan  kindred,  haling  in  triumphant 

wise 
Him  the  foul   usurping  tyrant,  forced   to  bend  on  servile 

knee, 
To  unbind  my  crystal  chains  with  backward  spells  and  set 

me  free. 
Lift  thy  voice  in   lamentation  !     Weep  aloud,  O    mother 

Earth  ! 
Broken  are  they,  snared  and  taken,  fallen  from  their  pride 

and  mirth. 
Thy  delight,  thy  glorious  Titans,  children  of  an  elder  birth. 


EPIMETHEUS  19 

Tall  and  comely  were  their  bodies,  and   their  hands  were 

swift  and  strong  ; 
Yet  our  Empire  is  no  more,  our  ancient  glory  hath  suffered 

wrong  : 
Yet  they  came,  the  foul  usurpers,  lords  of  craft  and  mis- 
creant wile, 
And  our  rightful  strength  lay  vanquished,    trodden   'neath 

the  feet  of  guile 
One  by  one  the  tyrants  bound  them,  as  a  labourer  binds  a 

sheaf : 
(Lift  thy  voice  in  lamentation,  shake  thy  hills  with  grief:) 
Yea  they  bore  them  down  and  thrust  them  deep  within  thy 

sunless  caves. 
Far  above  their  tombs  yet  plays  the  flashing  frolic  of  thy 

waves  ; 
Far  above  the  Spring  thy  lover  with  voluptuous  winds  and 

showers 
Dallies  with  thy  mighty  shoulders  robed  in  nuptial  leaves 

and  flowers. 
Many  children,  bright  and  lovely,  thou  shalt  bear  him  as  of 

yore. 
But  thy  first  and  dearest  offspring  shall  behold  thy  joy  no 

more. 
(Let   thy   waves   foam   out  their    grief   upon    the    desolate 

shore.) 
Where  is  Crius  ?     Where   is  Themis  ?      Rhea,  queen  of 

golden  hair  ? 
(Joy  and  hope  are  taken  from  thee  ;  publish  thy  despair  :) 
Where  is  old  imperial  Cronos  ?    gentle   Thea,   where,   oh 

where  ? 
Under    what    tremendous    mountain,    in    what    mine    of 

Tartarus 


2Q  EPIMETHEUS 

Dost  thou  fret  thy  v/rithing  anguish,  O  my  sire  lapetus  ? 
O'er  what  seas  of  flame  and  horror  ruleth  old  Oceanus  ? 
Never  shall  I  hear  your  laughter,  never  watch  your  kingly 

style 
As  ye  gather  clamouring  homeward,  streaming  up  in  joyous 

file 
Through  the  illustrious  gates  of  heaven  from  your  journeys 

to  and  fro 
'Mid  the  tribes  of  happy  mortals  on  the  populous  earth  below. 
Yet    though    hope    be    dead    for    ever,  though   my   lot   be 

desolate. 
Though  afflicted  and  abased  I  moan  beneath  the  oppressor's 

hate, 
I  will  not  bate  my  proud  resolve,  nor  shall  my  just  defiance 

cease, 
Nor  with  cringing  humiliation  will  I  sue  a  traitor's  peace — 
Never,  O  my  woeful  brethren,  shall  my  mighty  love  be  cold, 
Till  dark  Chaos  shall  resume  its  anarch  empire  as  of  old. 
Till  the  victor  with  the  vanquished  to  one  common  wrack 

are  hurled. 
And  remorseless  Time  strews  forth  the  scattered  ashes  of 

the  world. 


IV 

DjEdalus  questions  Epimetheus 

Epimetheus  !    Epimetheus!   waken,  and  unseal  thine  ear ! 
Keeper  of  the  keys  of  knowledge,  mighty  wizard,  hear,  oh 

hear  ! 
I  am  Daedalus,  the  craftsman  ;  regal  is  the  birth  I  claim 


EPIMETHEUS  zr 

From  the  house  of  proud  Erechtheus,  but  a  deed  of  blood 

and  shame 
Brought  me  wage  of  woeful  exile  :  with  my  son  I  found 

retreat 
In  the  land  of  ninety  cities,  in  the  ancient  isle  of  Crete. 
There  with  Minos  long  we  harboured  :  there  our  pleasant 

days  we  sold, 
All  the  cunning  of  our  hands  for  foolish  wealth  of  princely 

gold. 
Till  our  very  bread  was  bitter,  and  the  smoke  curled  hate- 
fully 
From  the  roofs  of  Cnosos'  city,  mounting  up  the  alien  sky. 
And  with  tears  of  tribulation  oft  our  labouring  hands  were 

wet. 
For  our  souls  remembered  Athens  and  its  noble  people  yet. 
In  my  thought  a  counsel  gathered,  round  my  heart  a  hope 

grew  strong, 
Well  in  secret  I  reflected,  pondered  and  considered  long. 
Then  I  took  our  golden  wages,  in  my  pots   I  cast  them 

swift. 
And  I  fashioned  golden  armour  from  the  tyrant's  molten  gift. 
For  my  son  and  me  I  wrought  it,  toiling  through  the  silent 

night. 
And  I  set  around  its  borders  scrolls  of  curious  delight ; 
In  the  midst  fair  chased  adornment,  figured  wealth  of  old- 
world  tales. 
Mystic  legends  borne  from  wanton  Egypt  on  rich  Tyrian 

sails. 
In  a  chest  I  stowed  it  close,  then  turned  me  to  my  task 

anew. 
I  devised  a  feathered  witchcraft,  wondrous  wings  of  divers 

hue. 


1 1» »» ii«  '^  I  III  ■ 


22 


EPIMETHEUS 


Like  the  lustrous  vans  of  Iris  glistering  through  a  summer 

shower, 
Stronger  than  the  wings  of  Harpies,  pinions  of  mysterious 

power, 
That  should  bear  us  over  land  and  ocean  with  swift,  easy  toil. 
Homeward  to  the  rock  of  Athens,  sheathed  in  our  golden 

spoil. 
Now  we  donned  our  arms,  and  now  with  magic  seal  of 

yellow  wax 
From  the  sacred  hives  of  Ceres  bound  the  wings  upon  our 

backs. 
Closely  cloaked   like   midnight   thieves  we  stole   in  silence 

from  the  town. 
When   the   morning  broke  we  stood  from  dizzy  headland 

gazing  down 
Over  unawakened  ocean  muffled  in  its  vaporous  gown. 
From  the  cHfF  we  leapt  exultant,  launched  upon  our  perilous 

flight. 
Floating  o'er  the  cloudy  purple  billows  down  the  streaming 

light. 
Long  we  journeyed  bold  and  jocund,  chaunting  ever  and 

anon 
Paeans  to  the  glorious  Loxion,  throned  within  the  mounting 

sun. 
Now  we  soon  without  mischance  had  crossed  the  surging  sea 

of  mist. 
And  the  very  stones  of  Athens   soon   our  joyful  lips   had 

kissed  : 
But  the  boy  waxed  vain  and  wanton  ;   now  he  gambolled 

overhead. 
Now  he  shot   before   me  far,  then   checked   his   race   and 

boasting  said  : 


EPIMETHEUS  23 

"  Father,  why  with  course  so  lowly  skim  we  through  this 

nether  air  ? 
Lo:)k,  look  up  !   behold  Apollo  throned  in  radiant  godhead 

there  ! 
Sunly   we  are   more   than   mortal  !      O  my  father,  let   us 

rise 
Though  his  vast  empyreal  realm  to  parley  with  him  in  the 

jkies. 
Thoigh  all  golden  be  his  garments  flashing  with  the  glance 

»f  fire, 
Yet  ve  too  in  shining  gold  are  glorious,  and  our  souls  aspire 
Whired  aloft  to  things  divine  on  furious  chariots  of  desire." 
Breatjng  forth  mad-mouthed  presumption  upward  through 

tie  sky  he  leapt, 
Heeditg  not  my  cries  of  warning.     Yet  a  little  while  he 

lept 
Far  abve  his  ardent  progress,  glittering  like  a  mimic  sun. 
Till   n   fiery  wrath  down   looked   the   god   on    that   vain- 

gorious  one 
And  )eneath   his   glance   the  softening   wax    dissolved    its 

ragic  bands. 
With  a  wail   he  tumbled   past   me,  stretching   forth   poor 

felpless  hands, 
Vaniaing  within  the  shroud  that  o'er  the  misty  sea  expands. 
Throgh  the  clouds  I  dropped  to  seek  him,  hovered  o'er 

ne  water's  face 
To  ad   fro  with  vain   endeavour,  wandering  round  from 

lace  to  place  ; 
Saw  10  sight  but  dolphins  gambolling,  fishes  leaping  from 

he  waves, 
HeaB  no  sound  but  sea-gulls  crying,  cormorants  screeching 

rom  their  caves ; 


24  EPIMETHEUS 

Sought  one  hour,  and  yet  a  second,  could  not  find  him  any- 
where ; 
But  the  third  I  journeyed  landward,  weeping,  laden  with 

despair. 
Tell  me  thou  who  knowest  all  things  ;  grudge  not  now  thy 

wizard  lore  ; 
Did  his  weary  feet  rejoicing  feel  at   length  some  friendly 

shore  ? 
Doth   he    live — my   child  ?     Or    did    the    whirlpool    /own 

beneath  the  waves 
Snatch  him  in  his  golden  armour  to  Poseidon's  festal  (^ves  ? 
Or  if  the  billows  in  their  arms  have  borne  his  body  (o  the 

land. 
Tossed  it  up  upon  the  rocks,  or  gently  laid  it  on  the  ind, 
In  what  pool  or  yellow  shallow,  where  the  hungrylfishes 

keep — 
Stranded    on   what    rugged   reef  now   lies   he   couchd  for 

endless  sleep  ? 
For   I  fain  would   take  him   up  and   kiss  once  moii  that 

woeful  head  j 

Ere  with  many  tears  I  lay  him  down  within  some  lelved 

bed. 
So  his  wandering  soul  may  pass  to  bliss  among  the  titiquil 

dead. 


ARCHILOCHUS 

Archilochus,  serving  as  a  hireling  spearman,  muses 

AND      REMEMBERS      NeOBOULE,     THE      DAUGHTER      OF 

Lycambes  of  Paros 

When  down  beneath  the  waves  the  great  sun  goes, 

And  leaves  me  leaning  on  my  spear,  a-cold, 

Watching  from  some  beleaguered  rampart  old 

The  scattered  fires  where  sleep  a  thousand  foes ; 

While  one  by  one  the  staid  rapt  stars  come  in, 

Till  all  the  silver  folk  together  met, 

And  on  their  thrones  in  ancient  order  set, 

Wait  ready  for  their  revel  to  begin  ; 

Oh,  then  I  cast  an  envious  eye  above. 

And  those  bright  sessions  palely  contemplate. 

Gazing  on  Cassiopeia  in  her  state — 

Andromeda  for  whom  knight  Perseus  strove  : 

But  when  I  look  on  Ariadne's  crown. 

Whom  Theseus  left  forlorn  on  Dia's  isle 

To  mingle  with  the  waves  her  moan  awhile 

Till  flushed  lacchus  from  his  car  leapt  down. 

Then,  then,  grown  dim  with  sudden  tears,  my  sight 


26  ARCHILOCHUS 

Explores  those  brave  celestial  halls  no  more  ; 

My  thoughts  fly  back  to  Paros'  rock-bound  shore, 

Where  dwells  my  Love  w^ith  sorrow  day  and  night. 

Now  forth  I  step  a  God's  heroic  child 

Schooled  up  to  valiance  in  wise  Cheiron's  cave, 

And  swear  in  her  dear  cause  e'en  Death  to  brave  : 

Now  from  the  sky  caught  down  by  passion  wild 

I  dazzle  her  in  Phcebus'  golden  mail ; 

Or  very  Jove  in  azure  mantle  fold 

All  her  white  frailty  round,  then  bid  behold 

If  now  the  jealous  stars  become  not  pale. 


Archilochus  on  a  Lemnian  Trireme 

Long  from  the  stern  I  watched  the  lines  of  light 
That  under  certain  nether  stars  lay  traced. 
And  toward  our  ship  converged  from  every  side 
Of  the  sea's  vast  calm  circle  :   Night,  it  seemed, 
With  silver  chains  had  bound  us  where  we  lay. 
Rude  clamour  from  the  lower  deck  proclaimed 
Our  dastard  generals — how  they  revelled  yet 
To  drown  day's  shame  ;  while  ever  and  again 
A  song  too  tuneful  for  male  soldier  throats 
Broke  through  harsh  laughter's  tipsy  rise  and  fall, 
Escaping  on  the  night  like  some  scared  bird 
That  leaves  its  high  nest  in  a  cavern's  roof 
When  wearied  robbers  enter  in. 

A  star 
Slid  down  the  sky. 

A  lordly  rioter 


ARCHILOCHUS  27 

Climbed  stumbling  up  the  steps  ;  and  as  he  reeled 
Across  the  poop,  his  pampered  hair  left  night 
Fragrant  with  perfume,  and  his  maniac  words 
Came  whirling  wild  :   "  Tethys,  my  bride,  I  come  ! 
In  thy  wet  arms  enfold  me.     Ah  !    I  burn  ! 
Fierce  through  thy  lover's  veins  flows  fire  enough 
To  warm  thy  cold  heart,  though  its  chilly  blood 
Stream  universal  as  the  infinite  sea. 
Oh  quench  my  hot  limbs  in  thy  kind  embrace — 
One  long,  cool  nuptial  kiss !  " — Then  down  he  leapt. 
At  his  mad  drunken  mouth  the  sea  rushed  in. 
Small  ripples  washed  the  hull,  then  sank  to  rest. 


The  Sadness  of  Neoboule,  when  the  Spring  re- 
turning  DOES    NOT    BRING   ArCHILOCHUS    WITH    IT 


Through  the  garden  it  wandered  stealthily  : 

In  at  my  window  it  came, 

And  I  knew  that  Spring  was  its  name, 

Spring  that  comes  a  wind  from  the  West, 

The  wind  which  all  things  love  the  best, 

Laden  with  gifts  for  all  so  wealthily. 

Their  leaves  it  gives  to  the  trees. 

To  the  meadows  flowers. 

To  the  flowers  it  sends  the  bees, 

Raiseth  the  glow-worm  lily  bowers  ; 

And  on  heart  of  beast  and  bird  it  sheddeth  love  in  showers. 

In  at  the  window  it  came. 

And  I  knew  that  Spring  was  its  name. 


28  ARCHILOCHUS 

Then  I  thought :   "  It  is  well ; 

He  will  soon  be  here  ; 

His  sword  will  he  sell, 

He  will  barter  his  spear, 

And  leave  the  great  fenced  town  at  the  dawn  of  the  year. 

He  will  tarry  no  more  ; 

His  ship  will  be  fleet ; 

I  shall  hear  the  quick  beat 

Of  his  foot  on  the  floor  ; 

I  shall  tremble  with  joy  to  behold  his  face  in  the  door. 

He  shall  breathe  in  my  ear 

As  he  kisses  my  brow, 

*My  love,  I  am  here  ; 

I  have  kept  my  vow  : 

The  flower  of  our  joy  may  unfold  ;  our  winter  is  over  now.'" 

But  the  days  flew  by,  and  he  came  not ;  the  flowers  from 

the  meadows  were  peeping, 
I   sat    by   my   mother  and  span :    my   task   was   wet  with 

weeping. 
Down  from  my  hands  my  spindle  dropped  ; 
Close  to  her  feet  its  rolling  stopped. 
"  Why  are  thy  hands  so  faint  and  weak  ? 
What  secret  trouble  hath  paled  thy  cheek  ? 
Hath  thy  heart's  sweet  innocence  been  waylaid 
By  Love  that  hath  lurked,  like  a  snake  in  the  shade. 
Ambushed  close  with  waiting  wings 
Under  the  flowers  of  thy  maiden  Springs  ?  " 

The  days  flew  by,  and  he  came  not  ;  the  Summer  was  there 

in  his  glory. 
Out  to  the  woods  I  went ;  to  their  trees  I  told  my  story. 


ARCHILOCHUS  29 

I  asked  them  wherefore  my  Love  delayed, 

By  what  cruel  blast  could  his  sail  be  stayed  : 

As  it  played  with  their  darling  leaves  had  the  wind 

Left  at  parting  a  rumour  behind  ? 

But  I  doubt  if  my  question  could  reach  or  impress 

The  trance  of  their  somnolent  consciousness  ; 

For  their  drowsy  boughs  did  nought  but  sigh 

As  they  stirred  in  the  weak  wind  fitfully, 

And  their  moss-grown  multitudes  I  deem 

Were  lapped  in  the  bliss  of  summer  dream. 

Then  I  asked  the  lizard  why. 

And  the  lizard  made  reply  : 

"  Go  ask  of  the  bee  ; 

He  is  vagrant  and  free — 

A  wandering  merchant  and  traveller  he. 

We  lizards  have  business  in  hand  ; 

A  sweet  theft  have  I  planned  : 

While  the  bee  is  abroad 

Adding  wealth  to  his  hoard. 

We  must  enter  his  home 

By  its  narrow,  low  door. 

And  rifle  his  comb 

From  the  roof  to  the  floor. 

Then  I  ran  to  find  the  bee, 
Searched  through  all  his  blue-bell  lea, 
Found  him  swinging  in  a  cup. 
Drinking  all  its  sweetness  up. 
Without  turning  from  his  task, 
"  Child,"  he  answered,  "  wait  and  ask 
These  idle  flowers  when  I  am  gone : 


30  ARCHILOCHUS 

They  will  tell  thee  all  anon, 

I  am  busy,  they  have  leisure. 

What  have  all  their  tribes  to  do 

But  stand  and  guard  their  yellow  treasure 

In  their  cups  of  red  and  blue, 

Till  I  hurry  buzzing  back 

To  take  what  else  my  bags  may  lack  ? 

They  will  tell  thee  all  with  pleasure." 

So  I  stooped  to  ask  the  flowers. 

That  spend  their  happy  hours 

Lending  tiny  blossom  ears 

To  the  wandering  gossip  breeze, 

That  tells  of  all  it  does  and  hears 

On  lands  and  seas. 

I  asked  them  could  they  tell  me. 

Could  their  scented  petals  spell  me 

Some  blown  rumour  from  the  ocean, 

Some  faint-recollected  notion 

Of  what  the  winds  might  say  ; 

But  they  said  :   "Nay  ! — 

We  know  what  thou  wouldst  know  ; 

But  his  fate  we  may  not  show." 

Then  I  wept  bright  tears  upon  them 

And  fancied  I  had  won  them 

All  their  secrets  to  unfold  ; 

And  many  things  they  told, 

Deeds  done  beneath  the  trees. 

Bright  loves  of  birds  and  bees — 

But  of  him  no  word. 

So  I  turned  in  grief  away. 

And  left  their  prattle  gay  j 


ARCHILOCHUS  31 

But  still  they  murmured  on, 

Though  their  questioner  was  gone  : 

To  their  merriment  no  truce, 

For  their  babbling  tongues  were  loose, 

And  by  wakened  memories 

Of  sweet  woodland  histories 

Their  fragrant  hearts  were  stirred. 


ORPHEUS 

It  was  a  vale  girt  in  by  magic  hills, 
Watched  round  about  by  giant  cedar-trees  ; 
A  land  made  musical  by  shallow  rills, 
Birds  in  the  boughs,  and  underneath  the  bees. 
How  I  came  there  I  know  not,  such  dark  ills 
Had  whelmed  my  soul  with  grievous  memories  ; 
But  when  I  came  to  that  enchanted  spot 
I  know  that  all  my  sorrow  was  forgot. 

I  strayed  at  will  along  the  winding  ways. 

And  watched  the  many  various  forest  things 

That  in  those  green  glooms  passed  their  cloistered  days, 

Insects  that  plied  on  freaked  and  mottled  wings 

Between  the  flowers,  deer  on  the  lawns  agraze 

Or  necks  astrain  toward  luscious  clusterings  ; 

All  day  I  watched  them  from  the  shadowy  bowers 

Beneath  whose  leaves  I  hid  my  happy  hours. 

And  seeing  that  so  long  my  heart  had  known 
No  thought  of  living  creature,  beast  or  man, 
Save  of  one  vanished  phantom  shape  alone, 
My  lost  Eurydice,  what  wonder  then 


ORPHEUS  33 

If,  when  oblivion  o'er  my  pain  was  thrown, 

A  luxury  of  pensive  pleasure  ran 

Through  all  my  senses — pleasure  with  still  stealth 

To  watch  and  love  that  sylvan  commonwealth. 

But  when  at  length  the  evening  made  more  dim 
The  twilight  'neath  those  boughs  for  ever  pent, 
I  rose  and,  careless,  took  a  wayward  whim 
To  set  my  feet  against  a  steep  ascent 
That  soon  had  lifted  me  above  the  brim 
Of  that  wide  leafy  sea.     Panting  I  leant 
Upon  a  rock  that  crowned  that  forest  isle 
To  watch  reluctant  day's  last  sumptuous  smile. 

The  daisied  turf  spread  out  its  carpet  green 
Around  grey  scattered  stones.     No  tree  was  there 
Save  one  old  almond  :  like  an  aged  queen 
Who  gems  her  locks  and  loads  with  jewels  rare 
Each  withered  hand,  e'en  so  this  tree  was  seen 
To  lift  aloft  into  the  purple  air 
Its  ancient  branches  with  their  new-born  dress 
Of  blossoms  crowding  white  and  numberless. 

I  wondered  much  what  thought's  caprice  had  planned 

To  set  within  this  wild  secluded  spot 

This  mother  of  sweet  flowers — what  perished  hand 

Had  planted  here  to  flourish,  fall,  and  rot 

These  fragrant  generations  all  unscanned 

By  lovers'  eyes,  forsaken  and  forgot 

Save  by  the  vagrant  forest  bee  alone. 

Who  ravished  their  stored  sweetness,  and  was  gone. 

D 


34.  ORPHEUS 

And,  as  I  mused,  I  saw  out  of  the  West, 
Coming  to  meet  me  'neath  that  flowery  tree. 
Her  sweet  authentic  image,  dimly  dressed 
In  the  same  robes  wherein  she  last  did  flee 
Back  to  the  houses  of  eternal  rest — 
The  twice-lost  spirit  of  Eurydice. 
Around  her  fell  the  blooms  as  she  did  go. 
Starring  her  mantle  and  her  hair  like  snow. 

Weeping  I  spake  :  "  Ah,  wherefore  hast  thou  come 

To  move  the  memories  of  forgotten  grief  ? 

Even  now,  while  'mid  the  trees  I  made  my  home, 

I  had  become  like  a  glad  careless  leaf 

That  soon  must  drop  and  find  its  mouldy  tomb. 

Wast  thou  so  jealous  of  one  hour's  reHef  ? 

Or  was  no  comfort  there  where  thou  hast  been — 

No  joy,  dear  soul,  among  those  meadows  green  ? 

"  Else  wherefore  from  thy  peace  beneath  the  sun 

Hast  thou  returned  to  visit  my  despair  ? 

Too  long  I  tarry  here  :   my  hour  is  run." 

Thus  to  my  moan  she  answered  :   "  Nought  dwells  there 

Save  holy,  tranquil  bliss.     But  I  have  won 

Respite  from  lonely  joy,  brief  leave  to  share 

One  piteous  hour's  fond  parley.     Then  give  heed. 

And  from  my  speech  take  solace  for  thy  need. 

"  Oft  in  thy  songs  hath  Love's  sad  tale  been  told. 
How  even  as  with  the  beasts  in  field  and  den, 
Insects  upon  the  leaf  or  in  the  mould, 
So  is  it  ever  with  this  world  of  men — 


ORPHEUS 


35 


Born  in  the  Spring,  in  Summer  'tis  grown  cold  ; 
The  leaves  fall,  and  it  faints  and  fades,  and  then 
Comes  wintry  Death  and  takes  tired  Love  away, 
And  covers  it  for  ever  in  the  clay. 

"  Such  are  those  transient  Loves  that  time  may  mar, 
Desire's  sweet  children  of  imperfect  worth. 
But  our  great  Love  was  not  as  others  are  ; 
With  bright  increase  of  splendour  from  its  birth 
It  lightened  all  our  darkness,  like  a  star, 
Filling  with  joy  this  sullen-seeming  earth  : 
Nor  when  I  from  sweet  life  and  thee  was  rent 
Might  its  proud  beams  endure  diminishment. 

"  Through  Hell's  dark  halls  their  path  of  fire  they  made, 
And  mocked  the  cruel  eyes  of  wondering  Death  : 
By  their  strong  radiance  vanquished  and  dismayed. 
To  my  spent  limbs  he  yielded  back  my  breath  : 
And  though  my  soul,  by  that  fond  look  betrayed, 
Once  more  'mid  stranger  shadows  languisheth, 
Our  Love's  peculiar  planet  hath  not  set. 
But  o'er  thee  hangs  its  mystic  influence  yet. 

"  Powers  are  there  of  such  sovereign  purity 
No  chance  can  make  their  perfect  glory  less  : 
Such  is  the  changeful  moon,  the  restless  sea. 
The  summer  meadows  in  their  shifting  dress  ; 
Such  was  our  Love  ;  such  suffer  it  to  be. 
These  change  but  alter  not  their  loveliness : 
In  them  hath  Beauty  built  her  sacred  shrine. 
And  fills  each  phase  with  native  grace  divine. 


36  ORPHEUS 

"Therefore  with  vain  unseasonable  moan 
Wrong  not  the  spirit  of  our  beatitude  ; 
But,  in  these  woods  abiding  here  alone, 
Sing  to  the  heart  of  this  green  solitude 
Our  happy  tranquil  story — here  where  none 
May  violate  thy  rapture's  pensive  mood. 
In  our  joy's  secret  season  who  had  part  ? 
Or  was  it  purchased  in  the  world's  loud  mart  ? 

"  Ah,  many  songs  thou  madest  for  the  sake 

Of  that  loud  world.     Then  let  this  last  be  mine. 

What  matter  though  the  senseless  air  must  take 

Its  wasted  beauty  ?      Do  these  brooks  repine 

Because  their  gentle  melodies  awake 

No  joy  in  any  human  heart  but  thine. 

Though  still  from  year  to  year,  in  murmuring  play 

With  weed  and  stone,  they  sing  upon  their  way  ? 

"  Or  shall  this  flowery  tree  with  less  delight, 

Or  these  pale  spears  of  modest  asphodel 

With  weaker  pride  put  forth  on  Spring's  young  light 

Their  opening  blooms,  when  thou  no  more  shalt  dwell 

Within  their  wastes,  their  loving  eremite  ? 

For  then  thou  shalt  be  with  me — Ah,  farewell  !  " 

So  'mid  these  stones  I  sit  and  sing,  and  wait. 

Even  as  she  bade,  the  coming  of  my  fate. 


THE    PLAYMATES 

Bend  close,  stoop  nearer  my  sisters  ;  I  deem  my  death  is 
upon  me  ; 
Scarce  e'en  so  can  my  voice  enter  the  doors  of  your  ear — 
My  voice  that  of  old  could  leap  so  far  from  under  the  pine- 
tree, 
To  run  through  the  Delphian  dells  and  woods  in  a  melody 
clear. 
Oh !  the  old  pine  v^^ith  its  song  for  us  three  singing  beneath  it ! 
What  will  the  old  pine  care  whether  for  three  or  for  two  ? 
Neither  shall  ye  two  care  overmuch,  but  sitting  together 

Tell  the  old  legends  again,  sing  the  old  melodies  through. 
Then  shall  ye  rise,  take  hands  and  dance,  while  faint  from 
the  valley 
Reaches  the  shepherd's  song  borne  with  the  bleat  of  his 
sheep. 
Till  when  weariness  comes  ye  sink  and  rest  on  the  verdure, 

Gazing  with  pensive  eyes  o'er  the  Corinthian  deep. 
Ah  !  would  God  I  could  stay,  my  soul  in  this  beautiful  body. 

Loving  ye  twain  and  beloved,  linger  awhile  and  be  gay  ! 
Yet  were  I  well  content  if  now  when  the  terrible  Hermes 
Draws  through  my  mouth  with  his  wand  my  spirit  and 
takes  it  away, 


38  THE  PLAYMATES 

If  he  should   pause   in   the   midst  of  the   grim   Plutonian 
pathway. 
Turn  at  the  pleading  prayer  of  the  tremulous  ghost  at 
his  side, 
Back  to  the  earth,  and  choose  some  delicate  thing  of  the 
pine-boughs. 
Squirrel  or  sweet-voiced  bird,  taking  its  hmbs  as  it  died. 
Or,  better  than  all,  the  cicala,  that  there  in  that  peaceable 
hostel. 
Breaking  its  journey  dark,  my  spirit  awhile  should  abide. 
So  would  I  sit  in  the  boughs,  and  with  dwarf  eyes  watch 
you  beneath  me, 
Through  small  insect  ear  drinking  delight  from  your  voice. 
But  if  your  joy  fell  hushed  at  the  thought  of  the  silent  sister, 
How  would  the  branches  above  chime  with  a  musical  noise. 
Till  one  should  say  to  the  other,  "Dost  hear  how  blithe 
the  cicala  ? 
Ne'er  have  we  heard  her  discourse  music  so  rich  and  divine; 
Surely  the  gods  have  had  pity,  in  lieu  of  her  that  was  taken, 
Setting  to  cheer  our  hearts  a  spirit  of  joy  in  the  pine." 


JUNO'S   PEACOCK 

Once  Juno's  peacock  sued  to  win  the  love 

Of  Cytherea's  youngest,  whitest  dove, 

The  trustiest  and  most  docile  to  the  rein 

Of  all  the  team  that  drew  her  airy  wain. 

Well  might  she  be  the  favourite  of  her  Oueen  : 

Her  soul  was  like  her  body,  white  and  clean  j 

A  nun  to  Venus'  service  dedicate. 

She  had  no  thought  of  any  feathered  mate. 

Yet  that  proud  courtier  bird,  her  flaunting  wooer, 

With  foolish  gallantries  would  still  pursue  her. 

Strutted  and  minced  before  her  wondering  eyes, 

And  put  to  proof  his  daintiest  fopperies. 

Venus  would  smile  to  see  this  gorgeous  sir 

Behind  her  progress  meekly  squiring  her. 

Oft  poor  suspicious  Juno,  when  her  lord 

Played  the  sly  truant  from  their  festal  board. 

Wanting  her  diligent  spy,  would  storm  and  rave 

Because  this  silly  lackey,  this  fond  slave. 

Came  not  at  call  to  learn  her  jealous  best. 

Wandered  away  himself  on  amorous  quest. 

But  all  his  foolish  courtship  proved  in  vain  : 

She  had  no  thought  to  spend  upon  his  pain. 


40  JUNO'S  PEACOCK 

Her  pious  mind  was  fixed  on  duties  high. 

His  proud-poised  neck  of  lapis  lazuli, 

His  noble  tail  she  deigned  not  to  behold, 

Nor  those  brave  flanks  rich  robed  in  burnished  god. 

So  sick  with  fretful  hope  away  he  flew 

To  a  smooth  lonely  tank  where  he  might  view 

Inverted  an  old  city's  ruined  gate 

'Mid  rose-wreathed  cypresses,  and  contemplate 

All  his  scorned  charms,  each  sad  neglected  grace; 

Mirrored  beneath  him  in  the  well's  calm  face,     j 

Here  perched  upon  the  brink  this  bird  of  folly 

Sighed  out  a  tempest  of  vain  melancholy, 

Wrinkled  and  marred  with  tears  of  peevish  woe 

His  pool-reflected  image  seen  below  ; 

Then  moralised  on  this  inconstant  theme. 

Saying,  "  Alas  !   fair  picture,  that  dost  seem, 

By  teardrops  into  trembling  agues  thrown. 

In  more  than  faithful  portraiture  alone — 

Nay,  with  prophetic  force  to  illustrate 

Thy  bright  original's  malignant  fate. 

Showing  how  swift  defacement  and  misfeature 

At  woe's  mere  touch  wait  on  each  mortal  creatu'e. 

Delivered  up  a  spoil  to  quick  decay. 

This  pomp  of  plumage,  this  superb  array. 

This  splendid  livery  so  brave  and  rare 

Shall  strew  the  earth,  plucked  out  by  harsh  Despair. 

Yet  ne'er  disgrace  so  hideous  will  I  brook  : 

Nay,  while  my  charms  yet  wear  their  summer  look, 

From  their  true-pictured  image  writ  beneath 

I'll  drink  the  solace  of  a  noble  death. 

For  beauty  scorned  save  this  what  remedy — 

Kissing  itself,  e'en  with  the  kiss  to  die  ?  " 


JUNO'S  PEACOCK  41 

Thus  our  poor  love-sick  wretch  bade  sad  farewell 

To  his  wronged  beauty,  then  with  purpose  fell 

Stooped  down  his  head  toward  the  glassy  tomb 

To  dip  his  soul  within  the  lake  of  gloom, 

When  in  the  tranquil  mirror  lo  he  sees, 

Gliding  between  the  spiring  cypresses, 

Jove's  puissant  eagle,  his  dear  gallant  friend. 

Floating  toward  some  tedious  journey's  end. 

His  lazy  wings  scarce  moved,  he  went  so  slow  : 

The  vesper  sun  lit  up  with  tawny  glow 

Of  mellow  gold  their  curve  majestical. 

His  noble  breast,  that  antique  ruin's  wall. 

Those  sombre  trees,  that  scene  of  gloom  fantastical. 

The  peacock  now,  though  still  on  death  intent, 

Delayed  the  tragic  act  so  sternly  meant, 

And  tempted  to  one  sweet,  last  moment's  pause, 

Cried,  "  Noble  comrade,  hither,  and  for  cause  !  " 

Obedient  to  his  call  that  mailed  bird 

Lighted  upon  an  ivied  tower  and  heard 

The  sad  tale  through  with  patient  courtesy. 

Then  turned  his  head,  fixed  on  the  sun  his  eye. 

And  sagely  thus  took  up  his  calm  soliloquy : 

"  Oh  simpleness  of  lovers,  aye  to  choose 

Death  before  life,  and  their  true  cure  refuse  ! 

Why  must  they  still  reject  the  reasoned  lore 

Of  prudent  love  ?     How  oft  must  I  deplore 

The  needless  climax  of  a  broken  heart 

For  lack  of  some  small  aid  from  wholesome  art  ? 

Many  the  cunning  ways,  yet  plain  and  apt 

To  get  by  rote,  whereby  coy  hearts  are  trapped. 

By  which  reluctant  beauty  may  be  wooed 

To  quit  its  proudest,  most  unwilling  mood. 


42  JUNO'S  PEACOCK 

Myself,  trained  up  in  Jove's  own  master  school 

In  the  nice  practice  of  each  stablished  rule, 

Tried  and  approved  a  perfect  graduate, 

Each  precept  can  rehearse  and  illustrate 

Theory  with  due  example, — borrowed  whence. 

Save  from  great  Jove's  august  experience  ? 

Therefore,  good  friend,  take  comfort  and  rejoice  : 

Among  my  precepts  pick  thy  wary  choice. 

First  the  swan's  way  woo  thou  :   with  swan-like  grace 

Die  many  a  time  before  her  cruel  face  ; 

And  with  each  death  sing  sweetly,  sing  how  Love 

Subdued  of  old  the  imperial  heart  of  Jove, 

Until  his  fond  Omnipotence  put  on 

The  feathered  ambush  of  a  snow-white  swan. 

Haply  she'll  wonder  with  a  sweet  surmise 

If  Jove  himself,  lurking  in  fresh  disguise. 

Worships  his  hundredth  bride  with  all  those  painted  eyes. 

Or  thou  mayst  call  to  aid  a  tested  power, 

And  whelm  her  frailty  in  a  golden  shower. 

Whene'er  in  Venus'  team  she  fares  abroad. 

Of  burnished  feathers  spoil  thy  downy  hoard — 

Be  thine  too  precious,  from  an  aureole's  breast 

Borrow  bright  plumes  and  softly  line  her  nest. 

So  was  fair  Danae  won  ;  so  oft  have  I 

Myself  prevailed  o'er  coy  perversity. 

But  if,  more  masterful,  thy  generous  passion. 

Scorning  base  means,  would  sue  in  nobler  fashion. 

Rise  to  the  mountain-top,  thou  valiant  lover. 

And  from  that  prospect  gazing  down  discover. 

Creeping  upon  the  earth  some  dangerous  snake. 

Some  wolf's  or  panther's  whelp :   for  her  dear  sake 

Swoop  down  to  battle  from  thy  dizzy  peak. 


JUNO'S  PEACOCK  43 

Bear  off  thy  lifeless  foe  with  claw  and  beak, 

And,  breathing  love  and  protestation  sweet, 

Lay  down  thy  prize  before  her  coral  feet, 

Though  now  their  hue  can  scarce  contend  with  thine, 

Which  glorious  victory  doth  incarnadine. 

'Twas  in  this  gallant,  military  way. 

Bragging  false  triumph  at  pretended  fray, 

Jove  won  Alcmena  ;  in  this  martial  wise. 

Well  suiting  my  courageous  qualities, 

Myself  I  mostly  use  Love's  flowers  to  cull. 

Yet  many  styles  there  be,  named  from  the  bull. 

From  cloud,  from  fire — "     "  Enough,"  the  peacock  cried, 

"  How  may  I  thank  thee  friend  ?      Now  had  I  died. 

Casting  away  my  silly  breath  for  nought. 

But  for  thy  counsel.     Fain  would  I  be  taught 

This  brave,  heroic  style.     Let  cowards  use 

Disguise  and  gold  :   the  soldier's  way  I  choose." 

"  Come  then  !  "  the  eagle  cried.     Away  they  sped. 

Their  talons  planted  on  a  hill's  bald  head. 

Now  gazing  down  they  see  the  dwindled  kine 

(Like  ants  that  cross  a  path  from  mine  to  mine) 

Slow  moving  toward  their  stalls  in  thin-drawn  straggling 

line ; 
And  ambushed  in  the  brake  two  lions  they  spy. 
That  wait  till  the  main  herd  hath  sauntered  by. 
Intent  to  pull  the  hindmost  laggard  down  ; 
And  far  away  toward  a  rock-built  town 
They  see  the  farmer's  child  who  brings  a  lamb 
Up  through  the  fields,  led  bleating  from  its  dam 
To  be  their  simple,  rustic  sacrifice 
To  mighty  Jove :   they  show  like  two  small  mice. 
One  brown,  one  white,  on  a  green  carpet  set. 


44  JUNO'S  PEACOCK 

"  Friend,"  quoth  the  eagle,  "  it  is  time  to  whet 

Upon  the  rocks  thy  claws  that  must  to-day 

Snatch  from  these  lions  their  proposed  prey. 

Or  should  thy  soul  disdain  ignoble  cattle. 

Then  brave  these  regal  thieves  to  generous  battle." 

Confused,  the  peacock  wondered  which  were  best. 

And  thought  perhaps  he  was  too  finely  dressed  ; 

In  fighting  lions  shields  and  swords  are  worn  ; 

Skirmishing,  sadly  might  his  train  be  torn. 

"  Surely,"  he  answered,  "  it  were  hardly  wise 

To  rob  earth's  monarchs  of  their  lawful  prize. 

Let  us  respect  their  rights,  and  rather  choose 

To  balk  the  kings  of  heaven  of  their  dues. 

They  are  our  lords  :   we  servants  have  our  rights. 

Our  liberties,  and  lawful  perquisites. 

That  little  lamb  that  to  the  altar  wends 

Across  the  fields  will  better  serve  my  ends. 

And  be  the  daintier  gift  ;  will  seem  moreover. 

On  pretty  cowslip  fed  and  tender  clover. 

Of  sweeter  worth  than  blood-gorged  monster  fell. 

Nay,  it  will  prove  a  freight  more  portable." 

Now  forth  they  launched,  and  soon  with  upward  stare 

Amazed  the  child  beheld  the  mighty  pair 

With  broad  majestic  curves  down-sweeping  through  the  air. 

First  came  Jove's  orderly  with  graceful  flight ; 

While  far  above  his  gaudy  acolyte 

Mimicked  his  style  and  motions.     Frayed  she  fled, 

Leaving  her  charge  unleashed  ;  and  overhead 

The  eagle  brought  his  wings  to  hovering  pause, 

Till  his  slow  friend  arrived  might  thrust  his  claws 

Within  his  victim's  fleece.     When  that  was  done 

With  much  ado,  the  lamb  began  to  run  ; 


JUNO'S  PEACOCK  45 

Dismayed  to  feel  itself  so  strangely  backed, 

Away  it  frisked.     However  next  to  act 

This  peacock  could  not  tell,  borne  fast  away 

Like  a  tall  general  hasting  from  the  fray 

On  milk-white  steed, — nobly  his  purple  vest 

Floats  outs,  and  nobly  nods  his  triple  crest 

As  he  flies  leaving  on  the  corpse-strewn  field, 

Cast  in  a  myrtle-bush,  his  blameless  shield. 

Some  Thracian  plucks  it  forth.     Why  should  he  fret  ? 

One  every  whit  as  good  his  gold  can  get. 

So  on  the  lamb  this  sumptuous  cavalier 

Was  hurried  to  and  fro  in  mad  career. 

Helpless  and  scared,  too  ignorant  and  weak 

To  lift  in  air  or  slay  it  with  his  beak. 

"  Help,  comrade,  help  ! "  he  screeched,  "  haste  and  despatch 

This  restive  beast,  against  whose  woolly  thatch 

My  untrained  beak  is  proved  a  very  toy, 

Weak  as  a  wren's."     "  Friend,  though  I  wish  thee  joy 

In  thine  affairs,"  the  eagle  made  reply, 

"  Yet  by  Apollo's  all-beholding  eye 

Sworn  am  I  ne'er  to  worry,  maim,  or  kill — 

Ne'er  one  small  drop  of  blood  to  shed  or  spill 

(Nay,  not  so  much  as  some  slight  gnat  or  flea 

Might  drink)  of  aught  in  air,  on  land  or  sea 

To  great  or  lesser  godhead  dedicate. 

Yet  nought  forbids  me  that  I  lift  this  freight. 

And  to  thy  mistress'  door  thy  lamb  and  thee  translate." 

Now  without  further  parley  he  descends 

And  plants  his  feet  behind  his  frighted  friend's, 

Who  cannot  now  pluck  forth  from  fleecy  trap 

His  tangled  claws  howe'er  he  tug  and  flap. 

But  buckled  to  his  gift  through  air  must  ride 


46  JUNO'S  PEACOCK 

Posting  it  willy-nilly  to  his  bride. 

It  chanced  that  Venus  drove  abroad  that  night 

Beneath  her  ranging  sister's  thrifty  light 

On  secret  visit  to  each  marble  shrine, 

Cydonian,  Gnidian,  and  Erycine  ; 

So  gliding  home  beneath  the  peeping  davi^n, 

Wondering  she  saw^  upon  the  daisied  lawn, 

That,  bushed  with  rose  and  myrtle,  round  about 

Her  Paphian  shrine  spread  its  green  carpet  out, 

A  tender  lamb  that  wandered  here  and  there 

Cropping  the  sacred  flowers,  nor  seemed  to  care 

For  that  gay  squire  who,  dozing  on  its  back 

After  his  crazy  vigil,  swept  the  track 

Of  its  slow  pasture,  dragging  in  the  trail 

The  dew-drenched  glories  of  his  opulent  tail. 

Smiling  the  queen  drew  rein,  and  thus  addressed 

The  leader  of  her  team  :   "  Oh  trebly  blest. 

My  gentle  dove,  in  this  thy  suitor  brave  ! 

Who,  not  content  thy  costly  love  to  crave 

With  trivial  common  gifts,  by  force  or  sleight 

Must  rob  the  farms  of  men  for  thy  delight. 

And  perched  upon  his  gift  watch  out  the  long  chill  night." 

Hereat  the  drowsing  peacock  raised  his  head 

And  gazed  around  abashed,  discomforted  : 

Crestfallen  quite,  he  fain  would  fly  away, 

But  knows  he  cannot,  struggle  as  he  may  : 

Therefore,  resolved  to  wear  a  gallant  face, 

Even  in  the  very  meshes  of  disgrace. 

Erects  his  poor  wet  tail's  bedraggled  plumes, 

And  that  proud  style  and  dignity  assumes 

Wherewith  he  holds  in  awe  his  cringing  fellow-grooms. 

"  Sweet  lady  !  "  he  began,  "  kind  mistress  mine  ! 


JUNOS  PEACOCK  47 

Well  doth  the  gracious  Oueen  of  Love  divine 

The  purpose  of  my  gallant  industry, 

And  vi^herefore  'neath  the  shrewd  nocturnal  sky 

I  kept  cold  vigil.     It  v^^as  love's  decree, 

Yea,  Lady,  'tv^^as  my  headlong  love  of  thee 

That  sent  me  to  the  peopled  haunts  of  man 

(Scorning  the  dulcet  fashion  of  the  swan. 

Or  mean  seductive  gold),  to  snatch  away 

This  lusty  lamb  which  at  thy  feet  I  lay. 

Proof  of  my  prowess  and  Love's  scorching  dart 

That  makes  a  cinder  of  my  amorous  heart. 

Behold,  'tis  thine,  whether  to  slay  outright. 

Or  spare  to  be  thy  fleecy  favourite. 

But  if,  being  found  too  cumbersome,  my  gift 

Be  doomed  to  death,  then  will  I  make  some  shift 

Before  thy  very  eyes  to  spill  its  life, 

Or  call  some  priest  with  sacrificial  knife 

In  proper  formal  wise — nay,  that  were  best : 

For,  Lady,  sure  it  were  a  sorry  jest 

That  in  thy  sight  my  gaudy  plumes  should  reek 

With  brutal  slaughter,  and  that  I  should  speak 

My   tender    passion's    plaint    through    grim   sanguineous 

beak." 
"  Soft  you  awhile,  fair  Sir  !  "  broke  in  the  dove. 
"  I  entertain  no  question  of  your  love  : 
It  needed  not  that  you  should  so  forsake 
Your  courtly  ways,  your  carpet  style,  and  take 
Fierce  lessons  in  some  brigand  vulture's  school, 
To  prove  you  were  a  coxcomb  and  a  fool. 
TJiat  long  ago  we  knew.     How  couldst  thou  deem 
So  strange  a  gift  of  price  in  my  esteem  ? 
Out  of  my  sight  convey  thyself  and  it. 


48  JUNO'S  PEACOCK 

Lest  Juno  miss  her  henchman  ;  for  'tis  fit 

Great  queens  should  go  well  lackeyed.     Hence  !  and  take 

This  counsel  with  thee  which  my  mother  spake  : 

The  fort,  she  said,  of  maiden  modesty 

Is  like  an  island  town  that,  built  on  high, 

Looks  ever  down  upon  the  busy  ships 

Coming  and  going  through  her  harbour's  lips. 

Let  but  a  fleet  come  steering  from  afar 

On  stranger  sails  equipped  for  boisterous  war, 

A  massive  chain  is  drawn  across  the  port. 

The  towers  are  manned  ;  for  foes  now  care  they  nought, 

Howe'er  the  scolding  trumpets  threat  and  snarl 

Demanding  entrance  with  rude  saucy  parle. 

But  if  the  vessel  of  their  sovereign  prince 

Approach  from  distant  voyage,  he  will  convince 

(UnfurHng  but  his  flag's  bright  heraldry) 

The  jealous  burghers  that  their  lord  is  nigh. 

Down  to  the  quays  the  merry  people  throng  ; 

Toward  the  banquet-hall  with  dance  and  song 

Beneath  the  pealing  bells  they  lead  their  king  along. 

'Tis  thus  alone  true  gentleness  is  won. 

By  the  heart's  destined  sovereign,  or  by  none. 

Lay  in  thy  silly  wits  this  lesson,  and  begone." 

Alas  !   poor  wretch,  befooled,  disconsolate  ! 

What  now  can  he  devise  to  vindicate 

Affronted  dignity  and  injured  pride  ? 

He  cannot  jet  and  strut,  his  feet  are  tied. 

Escape  he  cannot  from  his  desperate  plight 

Rising  majestic  in  offended  flight. 

There  must  he  stay  derided  and  bemocked. 

He  cannot  curse  ;  his  mouth  with  shame  is  locked. 

But  Venus  from  her  chariot  with  a  smile 


JUNO'S  PEACOCK  49 

Stepped  down  toward  the  weeping  wretch,  and  while 
Her  twinkling  fingers  wrestled  with  the  fleece, 
"Enough,"  she  said,  "now  get  thee  gone  in  peace. 
Jest  ne'er  was  fraught  with  quainter  merriment : 
So  take  our  thanks  for  sport  most  excellent. 
On,  Doves  !   'tis  late. — Yet  we  accept  this  lamb. 
For  e'en  of  bootless  fool's-love  Oueen  I  am." 


FOR  A  FAN 


Proud  mayst  thou  be,  gay  lady  of  this  fan, 
Waving  with  dainty  fingers  to  and  fro 
The  pictured  silk  where  those  great  regents  glow. 
See  how  each  gallant,  bhthe  Olympian 
Presses  in  wonder  rising  from  the  feast 
Around  the  horned  and  bearded  infant  Pan. 
Hermes  has  dropped  the  hare-skin  wrap,  and  lo  ! 
Holds  him  aloft  on  one  hand  poised,  to  show 
His  wondrous  child,  strange  blend  of  god  and  beast. 
But  most  young  roguish  Bacchus  takes  delight 
To  see  a  squire  so  droll,  and — oh  the  shame  ! — 
Snatches  from  Ganymede  a  brim- full  bowl, 
To  drench  that  baby  throat  with  liquid  flame. 
Soon  will  the  pretty  snub-nose  dance  and  roll 
Upon  his  goatish  legs,  then  in  sad  plight. 
Across  Jove's  table  from  his  father's  hand 
Totter  and  topple,  laugh,  and  try  to  stand. 


FOR  A  FAN  51 


II 


Behold,  all  ye  who  trifle  with  this  fan, 
The  piteous  phght  of  poor  Omnipotence. 
Alas  for  lo's  hapless  innocence- 
Sweet  lo,  whom  the  fond  Olympian, 
Disguising  godhead  in  false  mask  of  man. 
Has  wooed  to  ruin  !      Alas  for  those  immense 
Brave  cloud-compelling  hands,  reduced  to  fence 
His  love  with  vapours  thin  as  best  they  can  ! 
«  Shame  on  the  God  !      Poor  half-hid  thing  !  "  ye  cry. 
Nay,  for  yon  cruel  queen  reserve  your  blame. 
Whose  jealous  eye  distrusts  that  tell-tale  mist : 
For  she  brings  home  to  Zeus  his  every  shame. 
And  pities  never  a  woman  he  has  kissed. 
Deeming  it  bliss  enough  next  Pride  to  He. 


Trojan  Captives  grinding  Corn  in  the 
Palace  of  Menelaus 


Grind,  grind  !  heavy  quern  ! 
Why  so  stubborn  ?     Why  so  slow  ? 
Though  with  all  my  strength  I  turn, 
Yet  no  faster  wilt  thou  go. 
Soon  will  sink  the  holy  Pleiads. 
One  by  one  to  sleep  are  gone 
All  the  six  who  ground  beside  me : 
I  am  left  alone. 
For  my  task  is  still  to  finish  ; 
Weak  I  am  with  toil 
Grinding  meal  for  dainty  Helen, 
Her  for  whom  Troy  bowed  unto  the  soil- 
Weaker  than  a  fainting  lily 
In  a  festal  basket  borne, 
'Mid  her  flaunting  garden-sisters 
Lying  withered  and  forlorn. 

Yet  I  too  was  once  a  dainty  lady 

In  the  chamber  of  my  princely  husband  : 


QUERN  SONGS  S3 

Helen  then  was  nought  but  Priam's  daughter, 

Ate  the  self-same  bread  as  we,  seemed  only 

Than  us  more  fair. 

Oh  !   the  marble  palaces  of  Priam  ! 

How  beneath  their  roofs  we  took  our  pleasure, 

Delicately  dressed  in  gold  and  silver — 

Said  that  we  should  go  like  queens  for  ever 

In  raiment  rare. 

At  the  quern  I  sit  and  ponder — 

Send  my  thoughts  abroad  to  wander  : 

Would  they  might  for  ever  roam  ! 

Foolish  thoughts  !  ah  why,  alack  ! 

Must  they  needs  come  posting  back 

To  their  dreary  home  ? 

Here  they  must  be  clothed  in  black. 

Why,  when  they  had  learnt  to  flee 

From  this  world  of  rueful  things. 

Could  they  not  have  kept  their  wings  ? 

Foolish  thoughts,  what  could  you  lack  ? 

You  were  clad  like  queens  and  kings 

There  where  you  should  be. 


II 


Why  dost  thou  stoop  thy  head  over  thy  grinding  i* 

Surely  it  is  not  heavy  still 

With  somnolence  or  grieving  ? 

The  morning  yet  is  young,  and  at  the  quern 

We  have  but  toiled  one  hour. 


54  QUERN  SONGS 

And  how  canst  thou  be  sad  ?      Have  we  not  all  been  singing 

Our  songs  in  turn, 

Because  we  know  that  singing  scares  away 

Sad  thoughts  and  haunting  grief? 

Take  up  the  song  :  'tis  thine.     In  song,  they  say. 

Even  the  dungeoned  Titans  find  relief. 

Neither  for  sorrow  nor  for  weariness 

Over  the  mill  I  bow  my  head  : 

But  I  would  listen  to  the  plaintive  song 

Sung  by  the  barley  grains  between  the  stones. 

They  say  that  once  upon  ten  thousand  stalks 

Within  a  vale  they  grew,  and  they  remember 

How  the  oaks  and  willows  round  their  field 

Could  show  no  leaves  more  fresh  and  green  than  theirs : 

But  they  were  happy  then,  and  proud  delight 

They  took  to  see  each  other  turn  to  gold. 

And  feel  themselves  fast  growing  up  so  high 

That  soon  they  thought  to  overpeer  the  trees  : 

And  so  they  told  the  trees 

Nodding  all  their  rustling  heads  together, 

Whene'er  the  wind  passed  by  : 

And  the  trees  answered  nought,  but  sighed  and  laughed 

With  all  their  leaves,  for  they  had  seen  before 

The  fate  of  many  and  many  a  yellow  field  : 

Moreover,  with  their  stature  grew  their  pride 

Until  in  dream  they  seemed  about  to  thrust 

Their  bearded  heads  through  the  high  roof  of  Night, 

And  wed  their  gold  unto  the  silver  stars  : 

Nevertheless  one  day  the  reapers  came, 

And  boys  behind,  who  stooping  filled  their  arms 

And  to  the  binders  gave  the  nodding  sheaves  ;  ■ 


QUERN  SONGS  55 

While  with  shrill  song  and  chatter  they  outdid 

The  blithe  cicala  sitting  music-mad 

Within  the  leaves  aloft. 

And  on  the  threshing-floor  what  pain  was  theirs, 

When  of  their  golden  armour  thev  were  stripped, 

They  say  that  we  know  well. 

Now  they  have  come  between  the  crushing  stones, 

Yet  are  not  sad,  for  they  have  heard  us  sing 

Fair  Helen's  fame,  and  each  fond  grain  has  hope 

That  it  by  chance  may  come 

Between  the  lips  of  one  so  beautiful. 

But  wherefore  do  you  weep  ?      Had  then  my  singing  power 

To  touch  the  hidden  springs  of  woe  ? 

I  have  but  sung  the  fate  of  yellow  corn  ; 

And  yet  you  weep  as  though 

Of  our  own  piteous  tale  had  been  my  song. 


THE    END 


Printed  by  R.  &  R.  Clark,  Limited,  Edinburgh 


DATE  DUE 

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8  1971  6 

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